


Famous Blue Coat

by elospock



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:11:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elospock/pseuds/elospock
Summary: So it turns out that we’re both Leonard Cohen fans. We were matched for The Handmaid’s Tale, and I decided to go for it, but I also infused a bit of Master Song into it. Hope it works and that you enjoy it! Happy Yuletide!





	Famous Blue Coat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atheilen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheilen/gifts).



> So it turns out that we’re both Leonard Cohen fans. We were matched for The Handmaid’s Tale, and I decided to go for it, but I also infused a bit of Master Song into it. Hope it works and that you enjoy it! Happy Yuletide!

Famous Blue Coat

*

There was something hanging in the air; something sweet, sticky, yet faint, almost like an afterthought, a dim memory of a dream you had as a child. Like the delicate acrity of an empty glass of lemonade left too long in the sun on a hot summer day; like the feeling of dried raspberry juice on your hands; like the tart feeling of unripe blueberries on your tongue that stays at the back of your throat for hours after you’ve eaten them.

June looked at the foggy lawn, curled up against her window. A gentle breeze caressed her face, bringing to her memories of other dawns, other mornings, other rainy days, other lives she’d led in what seemed now another universe entirely. She listened to the birds; somehow, they always sounded different right after rain. It was like they knew that they had to be quieter, like they were scared of breaking this new fragile equilibrium, this petrichor-infused standstill between sorrow and regret. June smiled at the drops of water slowly going down the cool glass, leaving long trails that intertwined like a knitting pattern. She followed one with her finger, delighting in the simple feeling that reminded her of the long quiet summer afternoons of her childhood, spent in a too big and too empty house far from the city. She wondered if the house was still there.

“I love this kind of weather.”

June startled as she turned towards Mrs. Waterford, who was standing a few feet from her. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled in her dress.

“Mrs. Waterford, I -”

She put a hand up, shaking her head. “No, please, Offred. It’s fine. I’m sorry I disturbed you at all, now.”

Mrs. Waterford was still wearing her long blue cape, covered in tiny beads of water pearling and glistening on top of the protective layer. June met her eyes, which were unusually warm and open.

“Can I - Can I do anything for you, Mrs. Waterford?”

She didn’t immediately reply. Turning her gaze away from June, she advanced towards the window.

“I have a surprise for you.”

June opened her mouth in disbelief.

“A… surprise?”

Mrs. Waterford turned again towards her and had a small smile. From under her cloak, she produced a bottle of wine and two gobelets.

“Mr. Waterford is gone for the day, and I thought we could have a little fun.”

June swallowed. “Far from me from questioning you, Mrs. Waterford, but isn’t this not quite… proper?”

She laughed as she poured the deep red liquid in each cup.

“To be frank, Offred, I’m starting to be tired of being a proper Wife these days. I promise you, you won’t get in trouble for this.”

Wearily, June took the cup Mrs. Waterford was holding up for her to take. She raised hers in June’s direction and said, with a sarcastic smile, “Blessed be the fruit.”

“May the Lord open,” June replied, in mock deference. 

They drank in companionable silence for a while, both looking out the foggy window, lost in thought.

“Offred, can I ask you a question?”

Shaking herself back to the situation at hand, June glanced at Mrs. Waterford. “Of course.”

She turned towards June, something pleading in her eyes. “Can you answer me truthfully? I promise there shall be no consequences.”

Arching an eyebrow, June nodded. “I will try.”

Mrs. Waterford looked at her wistfully. She poured herself another glass of wine, which she drank in one swallow. Putting the cup down on the window sill, she closed her eyes.

“Are you having an affair with Fred?”

June winced and put down her empty gobelet. She turned away from Mrs. Waterford, walking towards her bed.

“Am I having an affair? Do I have any choice in this? Do I have any power in the situation? The answer is no. So how could I have an affair with him, if I’m not free of deciding anything in my life anymore?”

Brusquely, Mrs. Waterford grabbed her arm and turned her towards her, her eyes desperate.

“So you are? You are having an affair with him?”

June held her chin up. “Not of my own free will, I’m not.”

Mrs. Waterford pushed her against the nearby wall, crowding her space, her face contorted in pain and rage.

“You’re lying. I see how you look at him. You crave his touch and attention.”

June pushed Mrs. Waterford back, trying to disentangle herself from her steel grip.

“You don’t understand - you can’t possibly understand. Do you think I can refuse him anything? When he can make an unwoman out of me in a second and get me deported to the Colonies?”

She snarled. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t report your sins to the Eyes right this moment!”

June shrugged. “You asked the question and said there would be no consequence. Are you a woman of such poor word that you break it not even five minutes after giving it?”

Mrs. Waterford inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. “You’re nothing. You’re just a puppet. A pet. Something to amuse Mr. Waterford. He doesn’t love you. He’s just using you to break me.”

June looked at Mrs. Waterford in disbelief and laughed. “He is your master just as much as he is mine! Don’t you understand? We’re both prisoners, you and I! The difference is that you’re in a prison of your own making, while your kind forced me into it!”

Mrs. Waterford hit the wall next to June’s head. “It’s not true! Fred loves me!”

“Oh yeah? So he treats you like an equal, allows you to make decisions about other things than household staff and food?”

Mrs. Waterford’s knuckles were red, her fist shaking from the anger she was failing to contain. “Fred took me travelling three months ago because I wanted to. Fred always listens to me and seek my opinion on important matters. I am not his Handmaid. I am his Wife.”

June huffed. “Same difference.”

Mrs. Waterford hit her so hard June felt it resonate through her skull. She tasted blood in her mouth, the familiar tang of iron mixing with the acrid aftertaste of the wine. Deliberately slow, she wiped the blood of her lips.

“Why did you even come here, today, bringing me wine, talking to me like I’m your friend? Did you want to humiliate me once again, to put me down even lower, to assert your power and influence over me? Me, your prisoner in everything but clanking chains, why did you come to me, when you made it clear, repeatedly, that you don’t want to have anything to do with me if you can avoid it? Why today?”

Mrs. Waterford’s anger suddenly fell. She took a few steps back and leaned on the window sill for support, breathing hard. The silence stretched between them like a too tight string on the verge of snapping.

Mrs. Waterford closed her eyes once again, collecting herself. “Ten years ago precisely,” she started, her voice trembling, “I - I miscarried for the seventh time. The pain… I still remember vividly the blood on my thighs, running down like water, soaking my white dress, and slippery under my toes. I felt like cut in half, like someone was pouring boiling metal down my insides, burning, destroying everything.

“Fred was away, at the time, and I was home alone. I yelled, and I yelled, and I yelled until a neighbour passing by broke in and found me on the ground, convulsing and crying, my throat raw from calling for help. After that, things get blurry. I remember a strong smell of cleaning alcohol, too bright lights above me spinning slowly, the murmur of strange voices near me and the clicking of metal against metal. And then nothing. I woke up, sore and parched like I had never been before, my whole body numb and unfeeling because of the painkillers. When I woke up next, there was a doctor next to me waiting for me to come to. He explained that the miscarriage, this time, had been almost fatal to me and had left my uterus dangerously ruptured.”

June was stunned. Of all the things she had been expecting, this certainly was the last.

“Did they - did they remove it?” she could only reply.

Mrs. Waterford looked at her, her eyes filled with an indescribable sadness.

“No. But it wouldn’t have changed anything if they had.”

June suddenly noticed the gentle tap of raindrops on the roof, almost deafening in the eerie silence. She almost didn’t hear as Mrs. Waterford continued, whispering softly.

“I never felt more alone than those months I spent recovering, a numberless woman in a chair, covered in scarves and pillows, too stunned to move or do anything else than stare into the void. I used to sit by this apple tree and look at the fallen fruits, rotting a bit more everyday, carried away by small animals or swarming with ants and bees, and feel a keen sense of kinship with them. I felt like a damaged, rotten apple on the ground, lost under the beautiful tree that carried it.”

The rain was now pouring in earnest, and June felt at a loss of what to say. After all that had happened, after all the pain, and the hatred, and the violence, how could she be moved by her jailer’s trauma and own pain? How could she feel sorry for the woman who had made it clear from the beginning that she was cattle, an object, a commodity only necessary as long as she behaved?

And yet, June knew, she did. After all that had happened, she did feel all of this - and more - for Mrs. Waterford. She approached her slowly, taking her hands into her own.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Waterford.”

She looked up. “Please, Offred. Today, of all days, I want you to call me Serena.”

“Serena.” It was extremely weird to be able to say it out loud, to have this possibly false feeling of kinship and solidarity forging between them. 

Because June did understand what Serena had been through.

“I miscarried too. Twice. The second time, I lost so much blood that they thought I was going to die.”

Serena inhaled slowly. “Was this before or after -?”

“Before. I was very young.”

Releasing her breath in relief, Serena smiled sadly. 

Tentatively, June asked, “Are we proceeding with the Ceremony tomorrow, as planned?”

Arching her eyebrows at the change of subject, Serena nodded. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

June let go of her hands and crossed her arms. “I hate it. I hate it so much.”

Serena put a hand on June’s arm. “I know. So do I.”

“Really?”

Serena laughed bitterly. “Do you think I enjoy kneeling for my husband to come and fuck another one, Rachel and Leah be damned? Do you think I enjoy looking at him when he’s strung up like a golden statue, close shaved and clean, so we can reproduce artificially an old story that we decided was true and pure, to hide its perverse and ugly truth?”

June shrugged helplessly. “No, I don’t. I wouldn’t. But why do you encourage it, then? Out of duty? For Gilead? For God? Do you know how my body grows numb and number every time you put me through it, every time I have the hard and slippery power to procreate? Do you know what it feels like?”

Serena’s stare became hard. “Yes. I do.”

June pinched her lips and took a step closer. “Then why?”

Serena threw her arms in exasperation. “Because I don’t have a choice! Because you’re right, Commander Fred is as much my master as yours! And I’m only a puppet and a prisoner now, of something I created. I am both Frankenstein and his Creature.”

She took a step closer to June. They were now standing so close that she could feel Serena’s breath on her lips every time she exhaled.

“Do you know what it feels like, Offred? To realise that you’ve helped creating Hell?”

Suddenly June bridged the distance between their lips and kissed her, at first softly, but soon deeply as she felt Serena melt in her arms and respond passionately.

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and looked straight into Serena’s slightly stunned eyes.

“My name is June.”


End file.
